


sound and color

by firebrands



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anniversary, Beach Holidays, Day At The Beach, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firebrands/pseuds/firebrands
Summary: two important first weekends on the beach.fill for mystony bingoprompt: writing format: non-linear**now with art!!! **
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 29
Kudos: 108
Collections: Captain America/Iron Man Bingo





	sound and color

**Author's Note:**

> the past few weeks have been rough. i hope you're all doing well. writing this was a balm.
> 
> thanks to [fundamentalblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fundamentalBlue) for the beta!

There are some days when Steve remembers Punta Fuego. He imagines lying down on a beach towel, half-asleep as the waves lap against the sand. The afternoon sun is warm against his skin, and his fingers are still sticky from when he’d unpeeled a mango and eaten it with his hands. Tony had laughed, reached over and wiped the juice off his chin. The palm leaves sway and shift with the wind.

Somewhere near him, Tony was reading a book and smoking. He could smell the cigarette smoke, mixed with the salt in the air.

Steve remembers Tony reclining beside him, cracking an eye open to watch as Tony slathered on some sunscreen. He remembers Tony catching him watching, the smirk that formed on Tony’s lips, the way he leaned over and said, “Want me to put some on you?”

He remembers Tony’s hands on his chest, then on his stomach, then on the skin just above his hip, right above the band of his trunks.

He remembers sitting up to rest on his elbows, and pulling Tony in for a kiss.

He remembers how Tony’s skin felt against his, how the bottle of sunscreen had gotten trapped between their chests, how Tony had laughed against his mouth, how he thought, as Tony smiled at him, that he was more beautiful than anything in the world.

Tony had asked him at lunch, over the din of the crowd, how he’d like to celebrate their anniversary.

“I’m thinking,” Tony wasn’t looking at Steve as he spoke— “the beach? Full circle, you know?”

Steve smiled, touched Tony’s wrist. “Sounds perfect.”

They arrive just before noon, and Steve begins to sweat as soon as Tony kills the engine. Tony’s parents’ beach house is an expansive Spanish-style bungalow, all bleached white walls and wood. Before Tony, Steve had only ever seen things like this in magazines and Pinterest. The caretaker, Jojo, comes out to greet them and take their bags. From the front door, the house opens up with a view of the sea. It takes Steve’s breath away, the sight of the bright blue water glittering in the sunlight. Then he wonders how safe it is, to just have all the doors thrown open like this, but then realizes that this is a private beach.

After lunch, Tony shows them his room, which is right across Tony’s. Steve wants to ask why they don’t just share, but feels that it might be improper. Still, Steve ends up in Tony’s room after lunch, and watches as Tony grinds up some weed.

“So what are we going to do?” Steve asks, fiddling with the bag Tony kept all his paraphernalia in.

Tony barks out a laugh. “Well, first of all, relax,” he says, looking up at Steve and winking.

“Yeah, but.” Steve stops, not really sure what he meant to say next.

“You can go put on some sunblock if you’re so intent on activity,” Tony says, laughing as he rolls his eyes. “Honestly, chill.”

Steve gets up, walks to his room, and puts on some sunblock. The house feels so big, and he’s never been on a beach trip with just another person, and it’s—it’s a lot, maybe. In the car, earlier, it was easy, talking to Tony and teasing him by playing his music instead of Tony’s “beach trip playlist.” But now, here, Steve realizes that it’s so real all of the sudden, like something could happen at any moment. Wasn’t it just last week that they hated each other, wasn’t it just yesterday that they’d finally spoken properly?

He looks up when the door swings open. Tony laughs at him again, and then, inexplicably, he tackles Steve onto the bed. All the air in Steve’s lungs _whoops_ out of him, and Tony pins him down with his hips.

“What are you so worried about?” Tony asks, pushing himself up to look down at Steve. “I didn’t bring you here to like, kill you or something.”

“I didn’t realize that was on the table,” Steve breathes out, trying to get his bearings and trying to stop himself from reacting to having Tony so close.

Tony bites his lip, but Steve can still see him smiling. He looks like he’s about to say something and Steve finds himself holding his breath, and then Tony shakes his head and bends down to press a quick kiss on Steve’s lips.

“Come on,” he says, clambering off Steve then holding a hand out to help him up. “Let’s go for a swim.”

Tony ducks into his room and comes out with a bag, and Steve follows him outside. From the door, it’s only a few steps to the beach, and already under the shade of a botong tree is a cooler. Steve figures Jojo would have put it out. He thinks that Jojo already knows what Tony wants by now.

Tony pulls out a beach towel from his bag and lays it out before plopping down on it and cracking open the cooler.

Steve sighs, kicks off his slippers, and digs his toes into the sand as he looks out at the sea. He’s always loved beaches, loved the vast expanse of water, loved the way the sand got cold if you dug deep enough. He looks down at Tony when he hears the telltale fizz of a bottle being opened, and watches as Tony takes a long drink of beer.

“Steve can you please sit down and chill out,” Tony says, looking up at him. “Your nervous energy is harshing my mellow.”

The dated phrase makes Steve laugh, and he finally sits down beside Tony.

It’s thing like this that’re incomparable to anything else: to have Tony leaning against his chest, the both of them stoned enough to be happy but not too stoned to be stupid, licking a popsicle as the sun sets over the water, is one of the greatest moments in Steve’s life.

Tony makes a small sound of protest, and Steve hums in question.

“You dripped on me,” Tony murmurs.

“Sorry,” Steve says, and leans down to lick the coconut milk off Tony’s shoulder.

They’re so close that Steve feels Tony shiver.

Steve takes a few more licks of his popsicle before leaning back down and swiping his tongue against Tony’s neck.

Tony groans, shifts so his back is pressed flush against Steve’s chest.

Steve smiles against Tony’s neck, his mind a pleasant hum of contentment, and they watch as the sun dips under the horizon to the sound of the waves lapping against the shore.

Tony turns to look up at Steve, his features highlighted by the glow of dusk. “You happy?” He asks. He asks these questions periodically, as if Steve hasn’t given him enough proof, or maybe (more likely) that he doesn’t believe it.

Steve leans down and kisses him, tightening his grip around Tony’s waist as if to prove a point. “Of course,” he says as he pulls away. “Aren’t you?”

Tony smiles, scoots closer. “Impossibly,” he whispers, just as he rests his hand on Steve’s jaw and pulls him in for another kiss.

Steve wakes up because the sun is bright against his face and he feels like he’s overheating. Beside him, Tony’s face is pressed against his arm, the rest of him rolled inside the beach towel. Steve throws an arm over his eyes in an attempt to shield himself.

The movement, evidently, is enough to jostle Tony awake. He lets out a pitiful groan. “Why the fuck did we sleep on the beach,” he grumbles, and Steve watches as Tony rolls away from him and out of his cocoon.

“I blame your weed.”

“Well I blame you,” Tony says, sitting up slowly. “Aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one here?”

“Ugh.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, and Steve tries to gather all his willpower to get up. Just as he’s about to, Jojo arrives carrying a tray.

“Good morning,” he says, barely hiding the laugh from his tone.

“Jo,” Tony groans. “Coffee?”

“Water,” Steve says, cataloging everything Jojo had brought over. “Cake?”

Tony makes an obscene sound. “Jojo, I love you.”

“For breakfast?” Steve tries not to sound shrill, but he’s pretty sure he fails.

Tony doesn’t mind him as he gulps down his coffee. “We’re on vacation.”

Steve wakes up to the smell of cake. That is, cloyingly sweet, with a hint of vanilla and milk. He opens his eyes slowly, and the blinds are rolled up and the windows flung open. The sun is shining in, and Tony is sitting beside him, naked and unashamed and holding a slice of cake.

“What,” Steve says, and his voice is rough from sleep. He pushes himself up a little. “Is that cake?”

Tony smiles, soft and shy and so unlike how Steve knew him, before all this. “Happy anniversary,” he says, bending down a little to kiss the tip of Steve’s nose.

“Where did you get cake?” Steve asks, bewildered and still shaking off the last remnants of sleep. “Why is cake always involved?”

Tony huffs, mock-shocked. “No ‘happy anniversary, Tony’? No declarations of love?” He shifts as if to leave the bed, but Steve is awake enough to grab his hip and haul him close.

Tony cries out in protest, holding the cake up in the air as a protective measure.

“I love you,” Steve says, pressing kisses up Tony’s shoulder, then along his jaw. “Happy anniversary,” he adds, and when he sees Tony’s eyes flutter shut, he reaches up, grabs a fistful of cake, and mashes it against Tony’s face.

There are so many stars twinkling in the sky that Steve feels they could swallow him up.

Beside him, Tony shifts, trying to get comfortable as they lie down on the large lounge chair on the deck. It’s quiet, save for the sound of the surf and the occasional chirp of a cricket.

“Thanks.” He feels Tony’s gaze on him.

“You’re welcome,” Tony says, then reaches over to hold Steve’s hand. “Do you remember?”

Steve looks away from the sky and down at Tony. “How you asked me to be your boyfriend?”

Tony leans over and presses his face against the crook of Steve’s shoulder. He hums in response, the sound vibrating against Steve’s throat.

Steve huffs out a laugh. “I can’t recall,” he says, pausing for dramatic effect. “Was that before or after your sensual sunscreen application?”

Tony snorts and pulls away. “I didn’t hear any complaints!”

“There aren’t any,” he laughs a little, as he pulls Tony close.

“Is that all you remember?” Tony asks, turning a little in Steve’s embrace to meet his gaze.

Steve cups Tony’s cheek, rubs their noses together. “No,” he says. “I remember being over there,” he lifts his hand to point at the spot under the tree. Then, he rests his hand once again on Tony’s face. “I remember how bright the sun was, and the shorts you wore were red…” he trails off, smiling as he sees Tony’s face crinkle up with fondness.

Under the starlight, everything looks subdued and light, except for Tony’s eyes. The wind picks up and ruffles his hair. The waves crash against the shore, bearing witness as Steve kisses Tony.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](https://firebrands.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/firebrandss)!


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